Crimson Champion
by MyGoldenGlow
Summary: Red John is finally taken down - but not by Jane.


**I already wrote a future fic for Jane and Red John, but I had to write another. I am 100% positive that Jane will kill Red John if given the chance (the writers might change it, but I really do think Jane would). However I am not sure what Lisbon would do, so I keep exploring the possibilities. I'm not going to list my reasons why I think she might do this, but I do have them if you really feel like listening (don't, they're boring). **

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Mentalist, or anything else that is famous and makes a lot of money.**

**Read and Review!  
**

* * *

Protect Patrick Jane. It was the one thing he had never heard – never known. That secret conversation held with few words and quite a lot of body language. He had sauntered out the door, pleased as punch to be permanently working with them. She had remained behind for a moment before following him out. But the message was clear. It was her job to protect him – he had no gun, no self-defense training, and no bulletproof vest. She was all that and more for him, so she drilled it into her head. Protect Patrick Jane. Protect Patrick Jane.

The team knew it by heart – the mantra that they had learned through example. She felt sure that even Grace – sweet, uncertain, Grace – would be able to handle herself accordingly if the situation ever arose. But Lisbon always took it upon herself to bear the brunt of the responsibility.

After so many years of constantly protecting him, it was now automatic for her. Like her morning routine, she did it without conscious thought.

Shower – make sure Jane doesn't wander away.

Brush her hair – make sure Jane doesn't get the suspect too angry

Brush her teeth – make sure Jane doesn't show up unarmed to a suspect's house

Get dressed – be Jane's gun

Grab cell phone/badge/gun – handle Minelli

Make bed – handle paperwork

Protect Patrick Jane.

He had given her very few options. Keeping him out of the loop was impossible. First, he would figure it out in a manner of moments. Even the fact that the thought had crossed their minds would have been obvious. And second, they needed him if they ever wanted to catch the bastard. Cuffing him anywhere made him a sitting duck for an enemy who could walk through walls. Letting him do as he pleased and either a) arresting him or b) protecting him, was also out of the question. Which leaved her either to trust that he would let the law handle it, (_as if_, she was tempted to snicker disbelievingly), or to take the shot herself.

That was how she came to be standing here, staring down the man whose life she was going to take, simply because her boss had ordered her to protect Patrick Jane.

"You must be Lisbon. Going to ask me to put my hands behind me head?" he asked, his voice calm, and eerily childish. He was a handsome man – nothing special, but definitely not one to mark down as potential serial killer material.

Lisbon focused on the task at hand. She had precious seconds before the SWAT team she had come in with realized that she had found the man they were scouring the building for. Someone was bound to come down the hallway and kick open the door, intent on finding the serial killer with the grinning face.

"No," she replied simply, and let three bullets hit their mark, a perfect shot just shy of his heart. A promise that Jane had made and she intended to keep. After all – if she was going down for it, she was going down good. Shouts could be heard, and she let her arms drop.

"Patrick Jane will be most upset with you," the man wheezed, the blood slowly seeping out of him.

"Go to hell."

* * *

He had raced to the scene as soon as he heard – but froze in shock when he caught sight of what was now happening. A body bag was being carried out by paramedics – but from the calm looks on the men's faces, it didn't seem to have been a cop. Grace, Rigsby and Cho were all huddled around a police car, and it looked as if they had been crying. Jane automatically scanned the crowd for Lisbon, his heart constricting in his chest.

He caught sight of her finally, but his inability to breathe didn't cease. She walked out of the building, hands cuffed behind her back, three police officers surrounding her. He ran forward, stopping them with a look. They knew him – knew his mission – and they let him stare down at his boss for a moment.

"Sir, we have to take her down to the station."

"Why?"

The man opened his mouth to answer, and then realized that the question hadn't been directed to him.

"It was slow," she said simply, "Slow and painful. Not as slow as you would have liked, maybe, but you'll have to forgive me. I was a bit pressed for time," she offered a watery smile, the ramifications of her actions not entirely comprehended.

"They could kill you – you could get the death penalty."

She pursed her lips thoughtfully, and then shrugged, "Yeah, I guess they could."

"This wasn't what he meant when he told you to protect me." _Well, so much for him not knowing, _she thought.

"He never gave any specific instructions. Never said I couldn't protect you from yourself. Excuse me, please? I have to go."

And Agent Theresa Lisbon led her arresting officers to the police car, letting herself in. One last move of defiance – one last show for Patrick Jane to enjoy.

Protect him.

* * *

**_fin._**


End file.
